Tired, and bemused. Led Zeppelin say, Dazed and Confused.
Need, listening hard, to classic rock. LOUD.
Blowing, fusing and breathing, scaling, arpeggiating the length and breadth of this piece of glint, this smarmy tubing, pompously: traverse flute.
Displace the clatter of make-up, morning masque preparation
Music's my sounding-board, my salve. It cups and lets me
No longer a bottle-kop, dope, gangja, one end, chandie, sucker, blou-joe at the other. Used to be Born to be Wild. Now, Borne-on- the-Mild
This is all chandie, the silver side flute. In the chandies, always.
Minor pentatonic morning; chromatic blues, chromatic hues.
Get back, say the Beatles. And Billy Preston.
That's the way god planned it, that's the way god wants it to be
Thought for the day:
It will be given to us to behold the Bodhisatta's infinite Buddha-lilha and to hear his word.
- Jataka, 1: 54
Chance is always powerful. Let your hook be always cast; in the pool where you least expect it, there will be a fish.
The Doors, LA Woman.
Hawkwind, Silver Machine-my mother's old Bernina. M'ghrib blues
The James Gang:,Funk #49
America, Horse with no name
Bachman Turner Overdrive, You ain't seen nothing yet
Led Zeppelin, Nobody's fault
Joe Cocker, Feelin' Alright
Bad Company, Feel like making love
Supertramp, The Logical Song
Jimi Hendrix, Hey Joe
Stevie Ray Vaughan, Little Wing (that's my son now:)
Roxy Music, Love is the Drug
John Martyn, Solid Air
Bob Marley, I shot the Sheriff
Status Quo, Caroline
Boston, More than a feeling
Deep Purple, Black Night
Deep Purple, Hush
When my heart became constricted and my paths became narrow
I took my hope in Your pardon and forgiveness as an opening and an escape
My sins seemed very great to me but when I compared them to Your forgiveness
I found Your forgiveness to be greater
- Imam Shafi'
The Rolling Stones, Honky tonk Women (she blew my nose, then she blew my mind...)
Santana, Black Magic Woman (blood letting extraordinaire !)
Thin lizzy, Whiskey in the Jar
It's funny that(being taken to task for the thing the accuser is an adept)
I'm like a confessor, a lightning rod-for others' sins. What I definitely ain't, is a spook. What you see, is what you get. That's meant to be a strength, but it's turned into a failing by others' neurosis. I too readily, coz I'm fundamentally a decent human being, allow myself to be the trash-can for their sins, the screen onto which they deflect their own short-comings and self-deceptions, so they feel morally invincible again. But you and I know that's ephemeral, and so the vicious cycle continues. I'm like a walking ink-blot for them. And the blotter. Makes me want to get blotto
The thought police are out to get me again, but I ain't letting them too close this time.
The chinese sage says, feed ( their ) arrogance , even when it's presented -- and presides -- as something else, enough to even convince themselves they're the victim. The persecutor is mos the other side of the coin.
The most difficult part is just playing stupid. If I played otherwise, it'll piss everyone off, and don't have the energy any longer to fight, to whistle against the wind, piss against the breeze.
I've prayed for idiocy, lord knows I have. Perhaps I'm being granted it finally.
In the presence of the blind, dance, they that would not.
Pink Floyd, Shine on, You crazy diamond
Queen, Bohemian Rhapsody
Eric Clapton, Let it Grow
Peter Frampton, Baby, I love your ways
The Rolling Stones, Brown Sugar (!!!!!!!!!!!????:)
Right, can't fake it any longer... got to close me eyes, even if only briefly. Will I wake from this wake?